


Yoshiko's Cuddling Pillow

by Fiorrella



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Cuddling, F/F, Fluff, Spooning, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i think? i hope??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiorrella/pseuds/Fiorrella
Summary: There was a whole lot of things about herself that Yoshiko was embarrassed of - her pointy nose, her awful luck, and her chuunibyou antics barely even scratched the surface - but if there was one thing she’d be taking to the grave with her, it would be her habit of cuddling literally anything andeverythingwhen sleeping.





	Yoshiko's Cuddling Pillow

There was a whole lot of things about herself that Yoshiko was embarrassed of - her pointy nose, her awful luck, and her chuunibyou antics barely even scratched the surface - but if there was one thing she’d be taking to the grave with her, it would be her habit of cuddling literally anything and _everything_.

Or, more specifically, her habit of cuddling literally anything and everything when sleeping.

She had slept with a cuddling pillow for as long as she could remember, her arms tightly pulling the fabric close to her chin, feathered bangs tickling the edges, and legs just about wrapped around it. Yoshiko had tried to wean herself off the damn thing countless times, but to no avail; she always ended up tossing and turning until she finally broke and pulled the pillow back out of her closet.

At the age of fifteen, Yoshiko grudgingly accepted that she’d have to use - no, she _needed_ to use - a cuddling pillow, whether she’d like it or not (this sudden turnover mostly stemmed from her passing out in PE after only getting two hours of combined sleep without the pillow, which resulted in her mother being worried to the point of getting sick herself, but nobody needed to know that!).

Yet, as mortifying as she found it, she didn’t fault herself for liking it. The pillow filled up the lonely, empty space next to her, no matter how lifeless it was. Spooning was warm, comforting, and gave Yoshiko the sense of familiarity and stability that she desired. And as silly as it sounded: having something wrapped up snugly in her arms through the silence of the room made it seem less...suffocating, somehow, and more peaceful. It made her feel safe.

The first time Yoshiko had to sleep without a cuddling pillow was during the ‘camp’ at Chika’s inn. It was the first time she had been invited to a sleepover, and _Christ_ \-- can you blame a girl for getting a little overexcited from time to time? The pillow had been the last thing on her mind.

Yoshiko scowled, glaring at the...whatever the hell that was, strung up across the inn’s room. “What the hell is _that?”_ she repeated out loud, pointing accusatorily at the shark..thing hanging above her.

“That’s Left Shark-san,” Chika replied cheerily as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

You smiled sheepishly at Yoshiko from the futon next to her. “He’s a…” she frowned, loosening her grip on the pillow she’d been fluffing up. “He’s a, uh -- drawstring...sleeping bag thing...I think?” She shot Chika an uncertain look, sighing fondly when she only got a puzzled shrug in return.

Yoshiko narrowed her eyes. “I think the better question is: _why is it here?_ And why do _I_ \- the great Yohane - have to sleep in it?”

“There aren’t enough futons for all of us, I’m afraid,” Dia answered, her voice muffled from the staggering pile of pillows stacked on her arms. She nodded gratefully as Hanamaru hastily took half of them off her, and glanced back over to Yoshiko. “You’ll have to make do with…” she faltered for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words, “ _that._ Ruby and I are already sharing as is, and so are Kanan-san and Mari-san.”

“You can sleep with me if you want,” Hanamaru offered, handing Yoshiko a pillow. Yoshiko immediately blanched; as kind as Hanamaru was, she was also a huge tease -- if she found Yoshiko accidentally sprawled out all over her, she’d _never_ be able to live it down.

“I-I think I'll be fine,” she mumbled dubiously, hauling herself up into the sleeping bag.

 

As it turned out, she was absolutely _not_ fine. Yoshiko groaned into her pillow - well, as best as she could with how constrained the stupid shark thing was - and checked her phone for what felt like the billionth time that night. She immediately let out another whine: it’d been _four hours_ since Chika had first switched the lights off! The room had been filled with snoring a long, long time ago, and Yoshiko had never felt so jealous of a group of sleeping people before. What she wouldn’t do to swap places with one of them!

Perhaps that was for the best, though. She wasn't sure how Dia would react to being cuddled, especially by _her_. Maybe she should have just agreed to sleep with Hanamaru, pride be damned. Hanamaru was one of her closest friends, and at least then the presence of someone next to her _might_ have lulled her to sleep. But oh well -- it was too late for lamenting now. Pillow or no pillow, she _needed_ to sleep.

Yoshiko shifted around as quietly as she could until she was in an upright position, and gingerly shuffled out of her hoodie. She shaped it up into a sloppy ball and promptly sighed in displeasure -- it just wasn’t thick enough. Well, that was expected from the thin, scratchy fabric of the garment; nonetheless, this was the best she could get at this point, so she curled herself up around it - albeit, with apparent displeasure - and closed her eyes expectantly.

It took another half hour of tossing and turning, but thankfully, it seemed to do the trick. By the time Chika and Riko had tiptoed out onto the beach, Yoshiko’s steady snoring had long since joined in chorus with the rest of Aqours’.

  
“I’m sore all over,” Yoshiko complained in the morning, tentatively rolling her left shoulder back.

Hanamaru frowned at her from over the top of her bowl. “I _did_ offer you my futon, zura.”

“Are you okay?” Riko’s eyes examined her with clear concern. “You have bags under your eyes…” she trailed off, and Yoshiko hurriedly made to rub them.

“She’s _fine_ ,” Mari proclaimed as she pointed her chopsticks at Yoshiko, ignoring Dia’s disapproving scowl. “She was snoring like a whale!” the blonde tittered exuberantly.

Yoshiko’s eyes twitched, and she slammed a hand down on the breakfast table. “A fallen angel does not _snore_!”

“You kind of do,” Kanan admitted sheepishly, returning Yoshiko’s frustrated glare with her own undisguised smile.

“Left Whale,” Ruby mumbled in awe.

She sat back down with a huff, crossing her arms. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why she was friends with them all. None of them understood the pure _torture_ she had to go through the previous night.

 

* * *

 

The second time Yoshiko had to sleep without a cuddling pillow was at a Guilty Kiss sleepover. Riko had called it an ‘overnight camp’, but she wasn't fooling anyone; the only thing they had done all day was binge watch Yoshiko’s stash of horror movies (well, _Yoshiko_ had watched them. Riko mostly cowered behind her hands the whole time trying to ignore Mari’s raucous laughter). You’d think she’d have learnt her lesson from the summer training camp, but nope: she was so used to always having an extra pillow that it didn't even cross her mind to bring one along.

Mari was already out like a light -- Yoshiko supposed her constant snorting throughout the movies had worn her out. Riko’s house had an actual futon for her to sleep in, thank god, but it didn't help avert her restless twitching and shifting. She sighed, disgruntledly twisting onto her side again.

“Yocchan?” she heard Riko sleepy mutter from the futon on her left.

Yoshiko flinched. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“It's okay.” _Which means yes._ An awkward silence settled over the room. “Do you need a glass of water?”

“Huh?” Yoshiko turned around to face her, and immediately regretted it. It was kind of strange to see your friend’s face in such excruciating detail, especially when sleep deprived. “Nah, it's alright. I just can't sleep,” she lied.

Riko gave her a doubtful once over. “Are you sure you don't need anything? You look kind of...” she stumbled over herself, seemingly struggling to find the correct words, “...high strung,” she finished decisively.

“Well…” Yoshiko squirmed uncomfortably, eyes flicking around the room. “Do you have an extra pillow or blanket or something?”

“Ah -- no, sorry,” Riko looked stricken, and Yoshiko let out a disheartened huff. “I gave the last one to Mari-chan. I didn't think you'd need one.” She gestured to Yoshiko’s already rather plump futon. “Is it that bad? she asked, sounding a little guilty.

“A little bit,” Yoshiko admitted, snuggling a little further into the blanket in hopes of muffling the nervous twinge in her voice.

“Want to sleep in mine?” she offered, lifting up her duvet welcomingly.

Yoshiko’s jaw dropped open, her cheeks instantly darkening. Thank god it was dark enough to hide that fact, at least. _Did she even know what she was offering?!_

She supposed her reaction didn’t encourage Riko, because her grip on the blanket slackened considerably and her cheeks darkened to the same hue as her hair. “I-I mean, only if you _want_ to.” She dropped the fabric and covered her face with a hand. “Sorry, that was a dumb question--”

“W-Wait!” Yoshiko hissed, abruptly pulling herself up to her knees. As embarrassing as sleeping in the same futon as Riko was, like _hell_ she was repeating the suffering that was the summer camp! She crawled over to the other girl and tugged at the blanket, “I’m coming in!”

Riko blinked up owlishly at her, and for a few moments they just sat there, gawking at each other in a bewildered manner. Yoshiko stared at the fresh sheen of sweat covering her red face, which was framed by strands of her red hair, of which similarly laid scattered on her red pyjama top…

“You look like a beetroot,” Yoshiko blurted out.

A moment of silence passed. Riko looked like she was torn between crying, laughing, and murdering her all at once. Presumably, she decided on neither because she rolled over with a huff (an admittedly very cute one), and muttered a put out, “Good _night_ , Yocchan.”

Nonetheless, she shuffled over to make space and shyly peeked over the top of her blanket, which was as good as an invitation as any. “Pardon the intrusion,” Yoshiko mumbled as she grateful climbed into the other girl’s futon. Riko gave her a strange look: one that was half amused and half unamused at the same time, which Yoshiko supposed should generally make a neutral face, but she didn’t think about it too much. Riko was an expert at giving people strange looks, after all.

Yoshiko wormed her way under the blanket, pressing herself close to Riko as subtly as she could. She sighed; it just wasn’t the same as cuddling, but it would do. It _should_ do.

“Good night, Yocchan,” she heard Riko murmur from next to her, this time a lot more sincerely than her previous attempt.

“‘Night, Riri,” she mumbled back, the faint scent of fresh citrus fruit lulling her to sleep.

 

When Yoshiko woke up, there were three things she immediately noticed.

The first she noticed with quite a bit of irritation, and that was Mari’s incessant chortling in the background -- of course it was. On the contrary, the second she was fairly happy about: the smell of citrus fruit was quite the pleasant sensation to wake up to. Well, maybe not so much when it was this close -- as in, _up the nose close_ , but it was enjoyable nevertheless.

The third thing was a little less immediate, and unfortunately much more mortifying.

“Yocchan.” Riko’s hand was touching hers, which was - Yoshiko realised with agape horror - draped-- no, _wrapped_ around her waist. She only had time to register that the citrus was the smell of Riko’s shampoo and _oh god she'd buried her nose in her friend's hair_  before she had launched herself across to the other end of the room, letting out a shrill screech as she did so. Mari was almost doubled over in laughter and her phone was out, no doubt merrily recording the whole ordeal to show later to the rest of Aqours.

Yoshiko glared at her, pointing a shaky finger in her direction. “I-I-It’s not what it looks like!” she spluttered out vehemently, grabbing the pillow from her unused futon and catapulting it over to the blonde.

Mari dodged the weapon with ease, eyes trained on her phone screen. _“Oh?_ Then _what is it,_ Yo-ha-ne-cha-n?” she pulled out the syllables playfully.

“I dunno, but it's  _not what you think!”_ she yelled, crawling over to Mari’s futon and pulling one of her pillows up in a prepared attack. She scowled at Riko, who was sitting seiza-style on her blanket, a rather bemused expression adorning her face. “Riri, don’t just sit there! Say something!”

“H-Huh?” Riko snapped out of whatever daze she was in and blinked at Mari. “Um, Yocchan couldn’t sleep, so I offered her my futon and she said yes…” she trailed off, and Mari’s phone lens immediately swung back around to zoom in on Yoshiko’s flustered face.

 _“Oh my!”_ Mari teased in her broken English. “Yohane-chan, if you ever want to cuddle, you can ask me as well, _‘kay?”_

Yoshiko hurled the pillow right into her stupid smug face.

 

“Did I really look like a beetroot?” Riko tentatively ventured in private while they were cleaning up her room.

Yoshiko chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose you could’ve passed off as a tomato too…” Her face suddenly lit up. “Hey, your eyes could be the tomato seeds--” she spluttered as Riko approached her, pillow raised ominously. “W-wait, Riri, no more hitting!”

 

* * *

 

The third time Yoshiko had to sleep without a cuddling pillow was at her own house, surprisingly enough. She was stretched out lazily on her couch, game console in hand. Riko was curled up around her like a cat, arm tight around her waist and chin resting atop of Yoshiko’s head.

“Yocchaaaan,” she groaned drowsily. Yoshiko grunted, eyes still glued to the screen of her console.

“Yocchan,” Riko tried again a little more sharply, irritation having crept into her voice. The corners of Yoshiko’s lips curled up, and she grunted again mischievously.

“Yocchan!” Riko squeezed her arm firmly, and Yoshiko yelped. Seemingly satisfied, Riko loosened her grip, and Yoshiko huffed: her girlfriend was _scary_ when angry.

“What is it?” she whined, rubbing her stomach gingerly.

“I like you.”

Yoshiko almost bit her lip in surprise. “W-What the _hell_ , Riri!” she jostled her arm irritably. Riko simply hummed nonchalantly, but Yoshiko knew she’d be just as red-faced as she was - or even more - and that she’d be wearing an infuriatingly proud smile.

“Really though,” the frown was palpable in her voice, and Yoshiko immediately sighed. “Don’t just _sigh_ \-- it’s past midnight! Put that thing down and go to sleep!”

“Yes, ma'am,” Yoshiko muttered. Riko reluctantly let her wriggle out of her grip a little to place her console away before nestling her back into her arms again. “Say, you’ve gotten way more-- more...touchy-feely lately, haven’t you?”

“Have I?” Worry worked it’s way into Riko’s voice. “Do you not like it?”

Yoshiko brushed her hand affectionately against the cuff of Riko’s pyjama sleeve. “Yeah, I like it. I was just wondering why, is all.”

“Why?” If the two of them were standing up, she was sure Riko’s head would be tilted questioningly. “Why _wouldn’t_ I want to touch you?”

“Agh!” Yoshiko twisted her head around as best as she could, but with the angle they were lying at, the only thing she could make out was Riko’s shoulder. “See, it’s stuff like _that_ I’m talking about!”

“What’s wrong with stuff like ‘that’?” Riko pressed teasingly, her voice vibrating softly against her earlobe.

Yoshiko flushed. “You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” she accused, swatting her arm. “Have you been taking lessons from Mari or something?” She’d definitely chalk something so...playful up to Mari, seeing how relentlessly she enjoyed teasing the two of the, anyhow.

“...Maybe?”

She groaned. “Figures.”

“Do you like it?” Riko asked hopefully, squeezing her a little tighter.

Yoshiko frowned, “I just answered that, didn’t I?”

“No, I mean--” she cleared her throat, sounding a little flustered, “do you _like_ like it?”

“Huh?” That she had to think about. It was a sweet gesture, if not a little unfitting for someone as demure as her Riri, but that was what she liked most about it: it was uncharacteristic, unpredictable, and almost kind of…hot.

“It’s nice,” Yoshiko simply said instead.

 _"Just_ nice?"

"Yup." Her voice cracked, and that was when she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

Behind her, Riko nuzzled her nose into her hair and giggled softly. Yoshiko’s mouth twitched up - her cute laugh was quite possibly her favourite thing about Riko - and she pulled her arm tighter around her torso.

For the first time in her life, Yoshiko slept well without her cuddling pillow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [this!!](https://dynasty-scans.com/images/6202) masterpiece of a comic spawned this fic...somehow...?
> 
> dom riko is amazing and underappreciated honestly <3


End file.
